After an hour, Michael arrived with a basket. ‘It’s a good day for a picnic,’ he began smiling. Emerging from the water, drops of water trickled...down her body and her hair was wet and limp. ‘What have you brought us to eat?’ He gestured her to sit on the grass at the base of the tree, and pulled out a small jar. She sat with her legs parted, leaning back against the trunk, the fuzz between her legs glistening. Golden liquid dripped on her thighs, sticky and sweet, and Michael’s tongue tickled. I, for one don’t fit the stereotype of a woman that I’ve just described – but I think most women do. Certainly nearly all the men I have met fit the mould. If I’m ever unsure as to what a man expects or wants of me, because he’s too shy or too unsure of himself or just can’t verbalise his needs, I’m nearly always safe if I put on a ‘show’ for him. Very few men fail to respond to that. Of course lots of them know exactly what they want – some of them in minute detail – and I’ve had some strange. He remembered the sizes of cocks, the same ofbuttocks, the thickness of muscles and the sweetness of lips.There weren't many that he would reject satisfying however they wanted orneeded it. And like him they were all a bit frustrated at being orderedwhat to do every day and night.The schooling would last two more months and nobody was allowed leave to gohome for another month. But they could go into nearby city area for theweekend. And the first one had been two weeks ago.Some returned early,. Salma reached the book rack and checking the books, Victor stood next to her looking at her boobs. She noticed this. She bent down to pick another book, at this opportunity Victor peeped through her shirt. Her shirt moved forward generously revealing her boobs inside, they were bare without a bra. He took a good view but he couldn’t see the nipple. Victor committed those two soft boobs to his memory. Soon she stood up.Now Victor couldn’t control himself to see her other parts of her beautiful.